Harry Potter And The Eternium Of Magic
by Maliscestratus Magiarcanae
Summary: Harry Potter has been living under an illusion, the illusion that he has choice. What will he do when he finds out that the choices have been made for him and that his heritage has been denied to him. will he forgive those that made them. HP/HR good SS/DM
1. Chp 1 Troubled Beginnings REVISED

**A/N: lets get a few things out the way before we begin. To start with this will be similar to some of those stories that you may have already read. I will be making differences and some characters may appear a bit OOC but this is intentional. Though there will be heart ache and pain, death, power and twists it will strive to be close to the spirit of the original books. And on that note.**

**Disclaimer: **_**I do not own harry potter, that is entirely J.K. Rowlings domain and a credit to her for its invention. I merely am extending the known boundaries and allowing my imagination to run wild.**_

**Enjoy**

**The Eternium of Magic**

**Chapter One: Troubled Beginnings**

It would surprise no one to know that Harry Potter was upset, in fact upset would be putting it mildly as his magical aura flared between red and black destroying many of the little curiosities that used to grace Dumbledore's office but now littered the floor. Dumbledore himself merely sat behind his oaken desk his long fingered hands steeped together in a ponderous mood as he viewed the young man before him. Outwardly Albus Dumbledore was the picture of composure and grace, inwardly however he flinched with more than a little anger and curiosity as another of his many treasured possessions hit the floor. _when did this young man get so powerful _he thought to himself. This was not the only though wandering through his head at the time, in fact he was rather more concerned with how to bring this particular quandary to a successful conclusion without losing the weapon that he had spent so long fashioning in the shape of the-boy-who-lived.

Unaware of the manipulation and still raging Harry Potter eventually came to a grinding halt as Dumbledore cleared his throat. Harry turned his head to peer at the wizened old man that he respected so much. Clearly he would now be in trouble and yet again a disappointment to those that knew him. Inwardly he was cursing his stupidity at falling for Voldemort's trap and the guilt of endangering his friends. He dearly wished to know how they were but his mind was still filled with rage at the old man that had lied to him for so many years.

'_ Harry my dear boy, would you mind giving an old man a chance to explain himself' _

Harry sat down blankly still fuming but complying with his Professor. That is better Dumbledore thought to himself as he surveyed the carnage Harry had enacted on his office with a little bit of annoyance, still it would be worth it if he could bring the boy back, but how to do it. After a little deliberation Dumbledore decided that the best method would be to play to Harry's nature and thus he would need to admit a little while keeping the biggest secret hidden. God forbid if Harry ever found that out Dumbledore mused to himself more than a little bit confident that there was no chance of that ever happening, for who would ever tell him. Only two people knew that secret and soon, very soon that would be only one. Turning back to the boy before him Dumbledore spoke using his best grandfatherly tone, it was a real work of art and would have anyone convinced that he was nothing more than a loving caring person who had made a horrible mistake, little did people know.

'_My dear harry I understand your rage, I would be angry too. But you must see that all I did was a old man's misguided method of keeping you safe for your own good, allowing you that last moment of childhood'_

_**'**__Safe!, I have never been safe. I cannot get close to someone without wondering when I will see them in agony, nor can I love someone for fear that they will be used to hurt me. How am I be a child, I have seen things few adults have ever seen, I have faced death and pain more times than I can count. I have been beaten and cursed by those that I would call family. How can this be for my own good. I am no longer a child, I am nothing.' _

Harry broke down into tears, his knees hitting the floor as he slid out of the plush armchair, his hands holding his head in despair, finally he looked towards the sorrow filled eyes of Dumbledore and meekly said_ 'What can I do Professor, How Can I Live'_

Dumbledore walked round from behind his desk and put a hand on Harry's shoulder offering some comfort. This was going better than he could possibly have hoped, Harry's nature clearly wouldn't let him be anything other than the obedient student that he had spent so long fashioning into a weapon to face Voldemort. Clearly Harry was still naive and would be more than compliant to his wishes, he just had to add the little finishing touch that would bring him firmly back into the role of the loving guardian, in the eyes of Harry Potter, the chosen one.

'_Harry my boy, there is something that you must see, something that I have kept from you, In a vain attempt to lessen your burden. I was foolish and can see now how my actions have hurt you far worse than I could have known. Forgive an old man for his attempt to keep you happy'_

Harry looked up at Dumbledore, his eyes filled with tears. His head a swirl of confusion and images of death and destruction. His heart broiled in feelings of guilt, love, hatred, loneliness and despair.

'_I forgive you, I just don't know what to do anymore'_

Harry looked down in despair and missed the flicker of amusement crossing the face of the man who should have been caring for him. It was good the boys naive ability to love and forgive had strengthened his control of the boy. It didn't hurt that with that wretch Black out the way he was now the nearest thing to family the boy had. His master plan was going very smoothly, yes very smoothly indeed, he mused to himself as he placed a comforting hand on the boys shoulder.

Helping the boy to his feet Dumbledore placed him back in one of the plush chairs that surrounded his officer and conjured a silver strand from his head, dangling it on the tip of his wand before adding it to the penseive. Turning back to Harry, Dumbledore put on his best and most sorrowful voice and proceeded to explain.

_'What I am about to explain to you is the biggest secret known to wizard kind, it is why Sirius died harry, this is why you were tricked into visiting the Hall of Prophecy, for this secret could change the fate of the war.'_

Dumbledore paused for a moment and then continued his eyes showing sorrow that he did not truly feel. It mattered little to him if one or two people died as long as the ultimate aim was achieved, these people would have died for the greater good. It was what stirred his conscience, what kept him able to focus, everything he did, he did for the greater good and in the best interest of wizarding kind. Motioning with his wand a silver stream appeared from the penseive and expanded to form a small misty apparition.

Harry looked up to be confronted with a face which he knew, there before him was Professor Trelawney, her eyes in a trance and her lips moving to hidden words before clear and sparkling as the silvery stream came the words threading through the air, the weight of power and fate upon them.

**The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches**

**Born to those that have thrice defied him**

**Born as the seventh month dies**

**The dark lord shall mark him as his equal**

**But he will have power the Dark Lord knows not**

**Either must die at the hand of the other **

**For neither can live while the other survives. **

**The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord **

**Will be born as the seventh month dies. **

Harry looked up at the apparition his face a mixture of confusion and sorrow. His eyes finally reflecting the internal determination to do what he must do to save those that he cared about. Turning to Dumbledore he spoke his voice strangely calm.

'_I have to kill him sir, It is my purpose. But how, how do I kill the darkest wizard ever to exist'_

_'I will help you there my boy, do not worry. But for now get some sleep, you must return to your uncles tomorrow to replenish the blood wards.'_

Harry looked up at Dumbledore fear and doubt crossing his face before leaving the trashed office. Unbeknownst to either Harry or Dumbledore another person had heard there conversation, someone that had eavesdropped on a similar conversation years ago. Grimacing with disgust the figure moved from the portrait above Dumbledore's desk and travelled the lonely corridors of Hogwarts before materialising into a misty figure, silently following the boy along the corridor.

After a few turns and a couple of staircases the apparition witnessed Harry hit the floor his body drained of much of its magic and wracked by numerous curses, bindings and emotions . All in all it was not the way in which the spirit would have liked to have first witnessed his heir. Summoning a little magic he checked the area was clear and then sent it coursing throughout the castle on its mission of mercy. Looking down at the malnourished boy the spirit silently vowed to make things better, to give this boy a taste of the childhood that he had never had. Moments later a tall pale skinned man appeared along the corridor heading towards the limp form of Harry Potter.

Severus Snape was in a bad mood, not only had he been summoned by Voldemort but now he was being awoken by a sudden urge to visit the library that he couldn't shake off. Walking along the third floor corridor he noticed the slumped form of a student against the wall. Figuring that it was just another wandering student he stepped up close behind them putting his hand on their shoulder while giving one of his best evil glares. That was until the student slumped over sideways and he saw just with whom he was now dealing. With a shocked look he stepped back his usually emotionless eyes filled with fear, before him lay the-boy-who-lived, the son of lily Evans, here before him was Harry Potter. Quickly, his heart racing, he raised his wand and bursting out from it a beautiful silver doe disappeared along the corridor in the direction of the Gryffindor Tower.

Running his wand over the boy he could tell that he was in a bad state, but how could that be he had only just left Dumbledore, Surely the man would have checked him over. Something was niggling in the back of Snapes mind and he wasn't sure that he wanted to face up to it. Working his wand over Potter he started to chant some minor healing spells but nothing seemed to be working. As he was attempting to heal the boys numerous wounds a startled cry came from the end of the corridor. _'Severus Snape, What have you done!'_

Turning abruptly Severus Snape came face to face with the stern aging face of Minerva McGonagall, Transfiguration Professor and Deputy Head of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the last person that Snape would have wished to see, being bent over the nearly lifeless body of Harry Potter, but the only person he could think of to summon. _'Minerva this is not how it looks'. _

_A/N: A few things are coming up. I would like to say that this will bear some resemblance to other stories you might have read but with a few differences. There will be limited if any weasley bashing, I will be taking it from the idea that they too have been manipulated. There will be twists turns, OOC occurrences but I hope to keep true to the spirit of the stories. As I stated before I do not own harry potter, that is entirely J.K. Rowlings domain and a credit to her for its invention. I merely am extending the known boundaries and allowing my imagination to run wild._

_**Pls Enjoy and any reviews will be gratefully acknowledged. I understand that my grammar may be awful so forgive a man for trying. **_


	2. Chp 2  A Puzzling Situation

**A/N: Thankyou for your reviews and all those that have added this story to favourites. It takes me about 3-5 days to lay out each chapter so i apologise for the wait. For those that are wondering about the start, I am not entirely happy with it but found that I couldn't figure a better way to open the story. Thus for now I shall hope that the middle and ending are more to your liking.**

**Disclaimer: **_**I do not own harry potter, that is entirely J.K. Rowlings domain and a credit to her for its invention. I merely am extending the known boundaries and allowing my imagination to run wild.**_

**Enjoy**

**The Eternium of Magic**

**Chapter Two: A Puzzling Situation**

Minerva McGonagall pursed her lips together in her infamous cold stare, her expression serious and sceptical. Severus Snape shivered slightly inside of all the evils he had seen and done nothing got to him as much as that stare, it was as if all his deeds were laid bare before her. His thoughts open to her viewing. Shaking himself internally he banished the thought from his mind, chiding himself for being stupid, of course the woman couldn't read his mind, he a world class legimens and occluder who could stand up to Dumbledore and Voldemort and cloud his mind, present lies as truth and truth as lies, _get yourself together man_ his internal voice seemed to say.

Standing up straighter, Snape focused on McGonagall his face giving what he hoped was a friendly expression, though such were not his forte.

_'Minerva, It really is not how it looks'_

_'Indeed Severus and how do you suppose it might look' _

Minerva McGonagall's voice was like ice, her expression was brooking no opposition and she was clearly concerned, especially considering that she still had her wand pointed menacingly at Snape.

Severus shook his head at McGonagall, _fallen foul of my ill luck and bad judgement once more, why can't someone trust me for once, _he thought to himself. As he was thinking it he wondered if his young counterpart lying on the floor ever felt the same. Turning back to the situation before him he held his hands up in what he hoped was a placating gesture.

'_Minerva, you are more than welcome to have Albus perform any tests he would so wish upon me to ascertain the truth of what I am saying, but right now I feel that Mr Potter is of more concern, don't you?'. _

Snape fixed McGonagall with one of his trademark looks, the ones he used on students that had decided to talk during his lessons, or felt that the latest Witch Weekly was more interesting than potions, although he never understood that as Potions had more art in it than the rag that was Witch Weekly and he should know after all he had seen the drivel that the students read when he confiscated them, just before he burned them.

Minerva seemed to pause a moment before lowering her wand and tucking it back inside her dressing gown. She sent a withering look Snape's way and promptly walked over to the still unconscious form of Harry Potter. Running her wand along it she gave a small exclamation of surprise and shock as she felt and saw inside her mind the damage done to the boy. Straightening up she withdrew her wand once more and with a flick of her wrist levitated Harry's body upwards and started to walk towards the infirmary. Although it pained her to think of it because she had never once really trusted Snape she was now more than sure that he had done nothing. After all this boy was in such a condition that it could not have been achieved in so short a time since he had left Dumbledore's office. She still wanted to know what Snape was doing standing over the body of harry but she felt that it could wait at least until harry was under the care of Poppy in the infirmary, then she would have her answers, Albus or no Albus.

Snape meanwhile was trudging dully along behind McGonagall, he had gained a few minutes of satisfaction when he saw her jump with shock at the boys wounds but that was quickly swept away by the feelings of unease that kept creeping up on him. _He knew that harry had been at the ministry but surely the old man would have seen to his wounds before dismissing him. That left only two possibilities_ _either Albus was losing his touch or he had purposefully let harry suffer. To Snape's mind the latter was the more likely of the two. After all he had sensed no diminishing in the old mans powers and he had grown troubled over Albus lately, though he couldn't figure out just why. It niggled at him like a fly buzzing in his ear but just out of his reach to catch...almost as if...but no he wouldn't that would go against everything he was...but if he had...well that would be heinous. Snape shook his head his questioning had led to nothing but more worries and a swiftly oncoming headache. Merlin's Curse why can't I just lead a simple life, _he thought to himself but somewhere in the back of his head a voice answered one that felt alien and strange, _Because life is not simple and you have a debt to pay. _Snape shuddered at the voice, like a chill from the grave. He knew well from whence it had come as he had known its companionship for some time.

Reaching the hospital wing with a floating Harry and a Snape in tow Minerva exerted her will and the doors parted allowing entry to the clinically smelling ward.

'_Poppy_' Minerva called out her voice a little stiff with her tension over the boy and over Snape's presence.

From the back of the hospital wing came a slight noise of bottles chinking and then a crack of a door as it hit a hard stone wall. A light shone from the small room and framed in the light was the familiar figure of Madam Pomfrey bustling towards the curious trio.

'_Well what have we here Minerva, Young Mr Potter again, What has he done this time I wonder' _She mused out loud '_Well, you best bring him over here ' _She motioned to a hospital bed near to her office.

Minerva gently lowered Harry onto the bed and ended the spell. Looking down on the unconscious form of Harry made her wonder just what he must have gone through but nothing made her wonder more than when Poppy began her diagnosis.

Trailing her wand over Harry's body its tip glowing a slight shade of yellow Poppy spoke out her diagnosis to a magically floating chart and quill, that began to jot down her findings.

_'Slight bruising to the left abdominal area, two fractured ribs, minor concussion, two cuts to lower left hip, three to left shoulder, traces of dark hexes, three potents one unforgivable, severe mental fatigue due to prolonged cruciatus exposure, large blood loss and small internal bruising particularly around the abdomen and hip area'_

As the list got longer and longer the expressions on McGonagall's and Snape's face changed from worry to shock through to concern and disbelief. It would not surprise anyone to know that through their minds at that moment was the same thought, hitting at their consciences and niggling at their beliefs _how could a boy take this much damage and still stand, how could anyone let this happen. _Both of their attentions were turned back to the hospital bed as Poppy began to incant numerous medical spells attempting to fix some of the damage, they watched the aura around harry grow stronger and stronger as his magic combined with that of Madam Pomfrey's to restore his body, saw the numerous potions and salves flying off the shelves and out of the office towards the skilful hands of the medi-witch and imfirmarian of Hogwarts and were judiciously applied to the boy on the bed the broken looking figure of the boy-who-lived. They watched the cuts heal, the bruising decrease, even the ribs seemed to reform with a sickening crack.

An hour later and thoroughly exhausted Madam Pomfrey stepped back from the bed and sighed. Her body slumped no longer the upright bustling form it had formerly been. She looked down at the patient, the boy who now rested heavily in sleep, his legs curled up and held close. In all her years as a medi-witch and the many years she had been the matron at Hogwarts she had never seen such damage to anyone that still drew breath. Whatever this boy was, chosen one or merely unlucky he clearly held great power and will. It was that will that held him together now, for she knew that no matter her charms and potions, her magical healing would not heal what had been done to this boy, the damage that would rend his soul and torture his mind. That would have to heal on its own, with luck it would heal well, but he would need everyone who cared for him to do so. To be there for him. Turning to McGonagall and Snape she spoke softly her voice showing the fatigue that she now felt.

'_He will live, though it is a miracle that he managed so long, whatever Albus was thinking I will never know but he should have come straight here. There is massive damage that even I cannot heal in him, time will tell how much. He needs his friends and loved ones now.' _Sighing openly her eyes casting a soft tender glance over the boy-who-lived she gathered herself together and in her familiar matronly way she stated.

_'Well there is little more I can do, if one of you will sit with him and watch him, I must sleep now.' _

McGonagall and Snape both nodded coming out of there reverie and watched as the aging medi-witch bustled back off to her quarters. Turning back to the bed they looked down at the curled up form of Harry Potter wondering how the fates had dealt him such a hand. Both of them sighed at the same time and promptly walked towards the single chair colliding slowly with each other. Turning to face each other they gave each other there trademark glares and promptly began to argue over who should take the watch. The argument was finally broken by the least expected source. A singular radiating light filled the infirmary and a voice powerful and ancient spoke.

_'Nobles daughter and son, argue not over who has greater claim but do what is required for the sake of all. Surely there is room in every heart for compassion and trust. Let not past grudges hold you back from that which is the last living gift of the Arcanae. Guard, live, breath, sleep, watch, wait and see'_

As quickly as the voice and light had appeared it vanished leaving behind a tingling of fate and prophecy. Both of the professors turned back to the sleeping form of Harry Potter with renewed interest and wonder, could it really be, could such a thing occur. Lost in wonder McGonagall was about to offer to take first watch but was stunned once more by a voice that she never thought she would here, one filled with sorrow, heartbreak, concern, passion and emotions to numerous to mention. What shocked her more was the owner of the voice, the man standing right next to her, the Potions Master with a penchant for melodrama, sarcasm and sneers. The death eater that claimed sanctuary with the light. None other than Severus Snape.

'_Minerva, I must have the watch, I have failed him once already, I cannot fail him again, On her name I swear I shall attempt no evil upon him, Please you must let me, I need to be here'_

Shocked into silence Minerva looked into Severus's eyes seeing his concern and emotions flickering in there dark grey depths. In answer she merely nodded and walked towards the door to the infirmary. Stopping at the doors she opened them and turned around to look back up the ward towards Snape.

'_Severus, I am sorry'_

She spoke softly but he heard every word and then shortly the doors closed with a soft thud. Turning back to the boy-who-lived he watched him for a few moments before claiming the single chair next to the bed. Steepling his fingers together and resting his chin upon them he started to think back on memories long suppressed his eyes never once leaving the sleeping, unaware form of Harry Potter.

_A/N: Well thats the second chapter, hope it lives up to the expectations of the many people that have favourited or selected story watch for this story. There are many things that come to light in this chapter, pardon the pun, and many more that await discovery. Feel free to PM or review and let me know what you think, if you have questions or perhaps wish for clarification. Enjoy and I shall make an attempt at a speedier third chapter. __**Maliscestratus **_

_**Pls Enjoy and any reviews will be gratefully acknowledged. I understand that my grammar may be awful so forgive a man for trying. **_


	3. Chp 3 Magical Maladies

**A/N: **_**Well my hope for a quicker third chapter didn't quite work out as I planned, however it is ready now so please accept my apologies and enjoy. This chapter is a little bit different than the rest and we are going to be a little bit jumpy in it. So buckle in for the ride and let's see what the future holds. **_

**Disclaimer: **_**I do not own harry potter, that is entirely J.K. Rowlings domain and a credit to her for its invention. I merely am extending the known boundaries and allowing my imagination to run wild.**_

**Enjoy**

**The Eternium of Magic**

**Chapter Three: Magical Maladies and Vengeful Visits **

_**A little village in the valley of north - 1000yrs Ago**_

The wind rattled through the valleys and around the hovels, winding in and out of the buildings and creating a eerie whistle. Some folks called them the voices of the ancestors others called them ghosts but this was not the case for those in the know. These were the denizens of the eighth plane, spirits of fire, water, earth, air and life, bound by inscription and power to serve the Sorcerer. The wind was whistling and blowing and the spirits were hunting, hunting high and low for their master, searching for the man, the man with the billowing robes and broad shoulders, the man with the staff of carven wood tipped in ivory and marked with runes, the man who for the last few days had been preying upon the villagers of Little Hollow.

From a hilltop a silent figure waited and watched, his face concealed by the darkness that had swept over the valley. The wind swirled and rushed around him, dissipating and re-materialising, thunder clapped the sky and lightning ripped the blackness of the night. In its silvery glow the man was illuminated, framed against the darkness. His helm was of a silvery material wrapped in a simple crown of gold, It was partially covered by a red silken wrap that trailed down his back. Its shape was elegant but practical and it shimmered with ancient runes flitting across its surface. The man was armoured in what seemed to be tiny plates of an ceramic material formed into a flowing armour that culminated in a skirt of tiny plates attached to a light gown of royal red rimmed in gold. His figure was broad and powerfully built, he stood silent and still like a cat waiting to pounce. The lightning cracked overhead, the voices of the spirits wailed in the night and the darkness hung over all like a shroud and then the triumphant wail came from the town, the cry of a spirit that had found its mark.

The figure moved, he raised his staff slowly a silvery blur sped off into the night and the sorcerer started to walk slow and confident, his form straight and determined. Down the hill he strode, carefully measured steps an elegant gliding walk that showed his power and control, the spirits parted as he moved through them their heads bowed in respect, their aura's shining in the dark. He continued his walk, approaching the centre of the town where the townsfolk would gather for the seasons festivities to dance around the fountain under the sun and the moonlight in worship of the gods. There were no townsfolk here now, no dancing, no happy children, the town stank of fear and terror, it's very essence corrupted towards the darkness of the abyss. It was not always this way once it had thrived with life, blossomed and glowed in the light, but that had all changed, when he came. The necromancer, ruler of the dead and seeker of the lost treasures. The fountain no longer bubbled and was empty and tied upon its stone was a man, surrounded by spirits of earth, air, fire and water.

As the mysterious figure approached the man looked up his face a contortion of anger and hate, his eyes screaming death. _'You will not bind me here, I shall rise once more and your lands and all the kingdom shall fall into ruin, I am the god of death, the bringer of pain, I am immortal and you cannot kill me'. _

The man's voice was venomous and crackled, a hint of power but insanity ran through it. The figure stared at the man before him his eyes giving away nothing of his thoughts. With a slow deliberate movement the mysterious man leant closer to the tied mage and slowly removed the sword from the mages sheath, the sword was curved a long thin trail and the guard was of a strange metal that seemed to shimmer in the little moonlight that glanced off the fountain, the blade glowed with an eerie red light and seemed to wiggle out of the man's grasp, but his grasp held firm and the blade stilled. The man looked at the blade curiously and muttered an incantation under his breath, the blade glowed with a greenish light and mist rose from the blade attempting to envelope the sorcerer, but to no avail, with a ear piercing screech the blade glowed brighter and brighter, green turning to white and then it snapped the power gone. With a look of contempt the sorcerer dropped the blade on the floor. Turning to the man his face implacable he spoke, a voice deep and strong and yet soft in its essence.

_'Gregoric, for crimes against the kingdom, your sovereign lord, the conclave of magi and the ancient powers you were called traitor and exiled. On pain of death were you to return and now you do so. You have practiced your foul blood magic long enough and have wielded power that few should ever invoke, for these crimes the penalty upon you will be the highest we can give. I invoke the power of __**carcere**____**animam**____**sanguinis**__. Your soul shall be taken from your body and bound powerless in the void of the immaterium, there to languish for all eternity. So mote it be'_

The man looked up his eyes glowing with fear, his hands wrenching to get free. The spirits surrounding him held him down, preventing his movement as the sorcerer slowly and deliberately drew a long straight sword from the sheath at his side, its handle glimmering with gold and silver, its blade long and straight with a blood channel a nails width wide down the middle. The sorcerer drew the sword upward into the guard position before bringing it down into the heart of the bound man chanting as he did so, his voice solemn and deep.

_'_Liga ea in anima perpetuo carcere cruciatus, et in sempiternum non dimisit in aeternum perferre dolorem quod fecit aliis. Per fortitudinem meam et sic fiat magica

As the man spoke a blue light slowly started to travel down the blade towards the bound mans heart its path direct and unyielding as it reached the man it wrapped around him swirling like a vortex till it glowed in a purple light and then it was gone a voice on the wind bore the last words of Gregoric Danteric '_Godriccccc!'. _The Sorcerer removed his sword from the lifeless crumbling body, there was no blood for the man was no more bound body and soul into the void of the immaterium. Turning slowly he bowed to the spirits and one by one they departed, striding towards the hill once more Godric Gryffindor shook his head and muttered to himself, _'Bind this soul forever in tortured imprisonment, for it shall never be released and shall forever endure the pain that it has caused on others. By my might and magic so let it be'. _The words echoed in the air until Sorcerer, spirits, village and hill were swallowed in the darkness of the night.

**Hogwarts Infirmary - The Present **

The night had not been kind to Severus Snape, he had fretted and worried, pondered and wracked his brain but he still could not get over the feeling that something was drastically wrong, it was almost as if something was missing, but what and why was more hard to fathom. The boy on the bed hadn't helped either, constantly twisting and turning and moaning, at one point during the night the boy had screamed, it had been a piercing hollow scream followed by whimpering and pleading '_please not that, I'll be good, not the cupboard again, sir please, no, no, nooo...' _the boy had thrashed around and whimpered and then fallen into a fretful sleep. It was not the scream that had piqued his interest but the words, the silent begging. This boy had stood up to Voldemort had seen the death of many people through the eyes of the cruellest man alive and yet he was cowering at a dream of a cupboard, what kind of life had he lived and why had he lived it. It was this question and the never ending doubt and niggling feeling that plagued him all night and into the early hours of the morning, preventing sleep and giving Snape a headache the size of Hogwarts. It was at this point where Severus Snape was considering borrowing a calming potion from Madam Pomfrey that the boy started to stir, first a movement of the eyelids, then a shudder down the body, then coughing filled with a little blood and finally an attempt at sitting up, which promptly resulted in falling back down onto the low pillows of the infirmary bed. Standing up slowly Snape came over and placed a hand under Harry's back helping him to sit up, with the other hand Snape held a plastic bowl out for Harry to spit into.

Groggily Harry started to come round, he realised that his body was covered but not in his usual robes and that he was lying in a bed that had been tucked in around the sides but now was a cascade of sheets and covers thrown about by thrashing. The sun had just started to shine through the huge windows of the room he was in, but he couldn't quite place himself, the last thing he remembered is walking past the third floor landing that led to the library and then a light and a voice and that was it. He wondered who had brought him here and why he was here but more than that he wondered why it was that Severus Snape was helping to support him. Quietly, in little more than a mumble, Harry attempted to apologise for being a pain and a burden and taking up the professors time, even going as far as to say that he was sure he'd be fine if the Professor wished to leave, this was far from the truth but he didn't want to burden Snape particularly as the teacher had never shown him much care or kindness.

Snape was baffled for a moment and completely taken a back, here was a boy that could barely sit up, let alone stand up or take care of himself, who had hours earlier faced the darkest and possibly most powerful wizard to ever walk the earth in battle and survived, if barely, a boy who a short while before had been at deaths door owing to his injuries and now...now he was apologising for being a burden to Snape, the mind boggled.

_'Potter, you must rest or else you will be no good to anyone, your body took massive damage and you have just had a...turbulent...night to say the least, Believe me boy I would not be here if I did not wish to be here.'_

Harry looked up at Snape and noticed something strange in the eyes of the man looking down at him, a strange glimmer of something more, something that suggested that Snape may not always hate him. Deciding to leave the matter be for now, Harry started to look around properly, the curtains weren't drawn and by the looks of it he was the only patient in the infirmary, a thought that both annoyed him and brought him some relief, knowing that the others hadn't been badly injured. Thinking back on the night before he realised what a fool he was to fall for voldemorts trick and place those he loved in danger, and what had it got him, some damn prophecy that had been made about him and the loss of the only father figure he had ever known, it was his fault Sirius was dead, If it wasn't for him and his stupid childish actions Sirius would still be alive. He had no one else to blame but himself, as he berated himself tears started to trickle down his cheeks until he was curled up in a ball sobbing for the father figure he had lost.

_'I shouldn't have gone, it's my fault, all my fault, why did I have to be so stupid, Oh Sirius why, why did you die, why could you not have lived, why did you not stay, why did you come to rescue me.'_

Snape looked at Harry, his head told him to tell the boy to shut up and stop blaming himself, but his heart told him more than that, this boy had gone through so much, to lose the only father figure he had known would rip him apart and that could not happen. No matter how much Snapes distaste for James had been, a petty trick was no reason to hate the child. A part of Snape rebelled at this decision but it was quickly shattered and became as though it had never been, Snape felt lighter as if something had been constraining him, playing on his anger. Looking back at Potter he felt a stirring in his heart and mind, one that he never thought he would feel, he knew though how he did not know that somehow Potter was important not just to the light but to the essence of magic himself. It was a feeling, a connection, something unexplainable. Reaching out to the boy he placed his hand on Harry's shoulder and spoke his usual sarcastic drawl changed to a sympathetic silky tone.

_'Because he loved you Potter, he cared for you, you were his reason for living, how could he turn his back on the child that he always wished he had fathered.'_

_'But why did he have to die, why could it not be me?'_

Snape pondered for a moment then pulled on the only answer that came to mind and yet it felt the right answer.

_'Because fate has its plans for all of us. Sirius was a good man, he gave much to others and now he has given you a chance, a chance to be what you are meant to be, what fate has decided for you. Do not throw his gift away, he would not wish you to grieve over him. Nor would he wish you to seek revenge, he saved you, now honour him'_

Harry looked up at Snape, the tears drying slightly against his pale skin, his eyes showing a glimmer of hope.

_'Thank you, Professor'_

Snape nodded slowly and turned around to leave, turning back slightly as he left he spoke in his a tone not dissimilar to his usual drawl but filled with a little less hatred.

'_Now stop moping around and get dressed Potter, I still expect that essay tomorrow'_

Walking off towards the back of the infirmary and Poppy's quarters Snape smiled to himself. Snape's mind turned to the effect the nights activities had had on both himself and the boy. He doubted that the boy would be fully sound for a while, but there was little unusual about that, after all he was the chosen one. He also wondered just what had brought about his change in view of the boy, sure the voice had taken an interest but there was more to it, no matter how hard he tried he couldn't find that well of hatred and loathing that he had formerly held for Potter, it was almost as if a spell had been lifted but why would anyone do that, why make a boy that had suffered for a long time suffer more, it made little sense, as did all the other thoughts that went through his head. God he needed a drink, perhaps Poppy would have some of the firewhiskey left in her stash.

Across the ward, the boy who lived watched the potions master leave. Sitting up with his back against the raised pillows, he too was pondering the nights events, the vision, the nightmare, could he really carry on, perhaps it would be better to end it, maybe he should, but what if Snape was right, what if fate had a plan for him, did he really want to know what it was. How could he be a messiah, a hero of the light if he couldn't protect those he loved, after all what was he other than a broken, useless, childish boy. Slipping slowly out of bed he reached for his clothes and gingerly with a hint of pain started to dress, his jeans were torn as was his top and dried blood rimmed the top of the shirt but it wouldn't matter, for what he wanted to do, nothing mattered. Walking towards the hospital doors and freedom, glancing backwards he was almost there, almost free when the great doors opened and framed in the light that filtered through them was the last figure he wanted to see at that time.

_A/N: Again I am sorry for the wait and what must be atrocious grammar. For those that may be confused by some of the happenings in this chapter, don't worry so am I, but they will all come together in the end I assure you. For now read and I hope you enjoy. _

_**Pls Enjoy and any reviews will be gratefully acknowledged. I understand that my grammar may be awful so forgive a man for trying. **_


	4. Chp 4 Oblivious Deceit

**A/N: Well I didn't like the original version of this chapter and felt that it needed a large amount of change, so with a temper tantrum, a sulk and finally a rip I removed it and remodelled it to this slightly better but still imperfect specimen, that I now present to you. I am once again keenly aware of the wait that you have all had to endure and even more aware of your dislike of waiting. In answer to those that attempted to hurry my artistically created masterpiece and disturb my genius I merely have this to say. Maybe if you reviewed more I might put in more effort :P**

**That said I now feel that I should apologise for the poor writing, bad grammar and long wait and wish you all once more a merry reading, preferably drunk reading of this work. So sit back, grab a wine, preferably the bottle, and join me in the Fourth instalment of The Eternium of Magic. **Maliscestratus Magiarcanae

**Disclaimer: **_**I do not own harry potter, that is entirely J.K. Rowlings domain and a credit to her for its invention. I merely am extending the known boundaries and allowing my imagination to run wild.**_

**Enjoy**

**The Eternium of Magic**

**Chapter Four: Oblivious Deceit**

_**'**__Ahh! Harry, my dear boy, just the man I was looking for, though I must admit I didn't expect to find you here, but there you are. You weren't leaving were you?'_

_oh shite _Harry thought to himself as he looked up at the very last person he would have wished to see during his quickly conceived escape attempt. The twinkling blue eyes did nothing to dissuade his stomach from doing three or four loop the loops and at least as many barrel rolls. Stumbling and tripping over his words Harry made a brief reply in what he hoped was a convincing voice.

_'Er, I was just going to the bathroom sir. I didn't want to disturb the professor or Madam Pomfrey so I thought I'd use the one along the hall sir.'_

Harry looked closely at Dumbledore wondering if he had managed to sound convincing enough, Professor Dumbledore merely looked down at Harry his eyes twinkling brightly, damn those eyes harry thought to himself, they always seem to look just where they shouldn't, perhaps the professor wouldn't mind after all he doubted if Dumbledore liked being cooped up in stuffy wards with limited company.

At that precise moment though the Dumbledore in question was musing to himself as he considered the rake thin boy before him. It was well known that Harry Potter was the chosen one and none knew this better than Dumbledore, In fact very few people knew about the prophecy and fewer still knew what it contained. Which, if you asked Dumbledore and he deigned to tell you, was all for the better as it meant that he could train Harry into the perfect weapon without pity ruining his design. There was however one slight snag in his well made and perfectly executed plan, there was just too much Potter in Harry Potter, the boy seemed to have a penchant for being in the wrong place at the wrong time and even worse nearly got himself or some other person killed. Still it was all experience and death of loved ones moved the boy-who-lived closer to the weapon-of-the-light.

At that moment in time however the chosen one was attempting once more to place himself in harm's way covered by a flimsy excuse of searching out the loo, which in itself was cover for a rather ill conceived and foolish attempt at leaving the hospital wing and the tender clutches of its resident medi-witch Poppy Pomfrey, not to mention the observations of the resident potions master at Hogwarts that Harry was trying to enact. The boy just couldn't help himself, still at least he was not surrounded by the Harry Potter Fan Club and being doted on by his loving friends, nothing ruined a plan more than people sympathising, especially this plan, especially this plan for this weapon. In fact it might be wise, Dumbledore mused to himself, to invent some way of preventing contact between the boy who lived and the doting duo, just to speed progress along, perhaps he could also manage to push harry further into the clutches of the weasley girl which undoubtedly would bring the boy closer to him and thus more under his control, yes it was a very ingenious plan if he did say so himself. Stifling a chuckle and beaming from ear to ear Dumbledore slowly spoke to Harry, who was standing nervously as if awaiting execution.

_'Well my boy I'm sure your intentions, admiral though they may be, are currently against the wishes of the Madam Pomfrey who, if I might remind you, is in charge of your care, not to mention may well cause undue injury and stress to your person. So on that note might I suggest that the other loo is nearer and perhaps more aptly located for your current need and at the same time might I also make the suggestion that you could well do with some confined bed rest especially as you have somewhat of a trip to make tomorrow.'_

Harry shuffled awkwardly under the professors stare as he contemplated the aging mans words and whether he ought to attempt a run past. Finally deciding that running would probably be a silly idea he summoned his strength and managed to mumble out something about understanding and started to slowly manoeuvre his way towards the hospitals wings toilet. As he was wandering a thought seemed to strike him, one that filled his heart with a feeling akin to panic and fear. Dumbledore had mentioned a trip and whatever trip it was Harry felt pretty sure that he didn't want to tag along. Turning back to face the wizened professor he spoke politely but with a small amount of trepidation in his voice.

_'Er, sir. You mentioned a trip tomorrow, um if it's not rude, I mean if it's all right, I mean...where are we going sir?'_

Dumbledore looked the boy over curiously musing to himself. No doubt this boy was in awe of his presence but did he have to be so whiney and what a strange question, surely he must already know where he is going after all it happens every summer. Maybe he ought to have Poppy check the boy out just to see if that last battle had fried the boys mind, it wouldn't do to have his major weapon and trump card one branch short of a cuckoo's nest. Perhaps he should just tell the boy that he is being irrational, on seconds thoughts that would probably not be a good idea the boy would probably become all emotional and then he would be forced to keep up his grandfatherly pretence for longer, not to mention the whole crying thing. A curious issue but one that might with time be well thought through however for the moment it was his strong opinion that it was not of import enough to be decided upon and so settling into his familiar role he summoned his best and most fatherly voice and said.

_'What a curious question my dear boy, of course it's alright after all it is no secret. Tomorrow, you and I shall pay a trip to the residence of your Aunt and Uncle in Privet Drive. You are, after all, long overdue a stay within their loving care and the blood wards will be waning to dangerously low levels. So it would serve both yourself and the wards if you were to return for the summer. After all your friends and I would hate for you to become injured once more due to the lack of there protection.' _

Dumbledore quickly and obviously flicked his eyes over Harry's bruised and bandaged body and up to his lightly scarred face as if to say 'like I warned you'. Harry quickly caught the hint but even that could not stop his face from falling at the thought of returning to the Dursleys 'care' and a small and deflated 'oh' escaping his lips to accompany his general depressive state at the unsatisfying answer. In Harry's mind though a small ray of hope might exist if perhaps he were at least able to visit Hermione this holiday. Her parents had invited him round and he was hoping, as Dumbledore had seen to the wards at her home himself, that he would be able to visit even for a few days, fate it seems would not be so forthcoming as he turned to ask the one question that would bring joy or misery to his life Dumbledore had begun speaking once more in his fatherly but patronising tone.

_'Ahh yes my dear boy, there is one more thing that I believe we need to discuss. Am I right in thinking that you have by chance been invited to the grangers this summer.' _Harry nodded glumly noting the disapproving look on Dumbledore's face that soon turned to an insincere apologetic expression as the man continued with his pre-rehearsed little speech. _'Unfortunately, my dear boy, that is quite out of the question. I feel after Voldemorts recent defeat that he will be rather angry with you and attempt however unsuccessfully to gain some form of retribution, thus I think it safer for all concerned if you were to stay at Privet Drive for the duration of the holidays. Perhaps, though it is unlikely, with the bonus of a short stay at the Burrow towards the latter end of the summer break. I trust that it will not be 'too' much of a burden if I were to ask you to promise me you will stay there.'_

Dumbledore eyed Harry knowingly and made a mental note to himself to deploy someone to ensure the boys cooperation throughout the summer. Harry on the other hand was contemplating just how hellish a full holiday at the Dursley's might be and just what tortures they may have come up with. It would not be surprising to anyone that these thoughts sent a small shiver up his spine whether it was fear or trepidation it certainly sent a chill running through him. Nor would it be surprising that the very next words out of his mouth were a last, fleeting and vain attempt at salvaging what was looking like the worst turn of circumstances since that night sixteen years ago.

' Professor _can I not stay here for the holidays instead sir, I wouldn't be a pain, I could even help out a little. Please.' _Harry pleaded with his eyes, his mind and his heart, hoping for some small mercy from the supposed father figure of his life. However it was not to be.

Dumbledore stared down at Harry his face a mask of barely concealed annoyance and anger. '_My dear boy, that is simply out of the question. For one thing few of the professors will be around this holiday and for another it would be completely unsafe. You need to replenish the wards and be protected and quite frankly a little bit of Dursleys Care would not be bad for you.'_

_'But professor' _Harry whined and pleaded his eyes begging not to be sent to them.

_'No buts, Mr potter, you will abide by my wishes harry, it's for the best. The matter is closed.'_

Harry felt a sudden fury wash over him at the old man but it was quickly washed away by a calming feeling of floating, he felt as if he should be saying something, doing something, but he couldn't recall the conversation they were having, nor did he catch the slight movement of a wand being tucked back into a large flowing sleeve.

'_Why don't you toddle off to bed Harry, you must be exhausted, we will discuss it more tomorrow' _

Dumbledore said calmly and in his best impression of a fatherly figure he patted Harry on the head as he proceeded towards the back office. He would have to deal with the boys impudence later but for now it was contained, now he had to contain some other problems that had arisen, namely a certain medi-witch and potions master that were witness to some information that would be best served if it were forgotten. From the bed there came a barely muttered voice

_'Yes Professor' _Harry said '_We will discuss it tomorrow'. _The only problem was Harry couldn't quite remember what 'It' was and why they were discussing it.

. x . x . x .

In a small office at the back of the infamous Hogwarts Infirmary, by a ornate stone fireplace with a warm burning fire inside in a soft plump comfy chair sat Severus Snape. An odder sight could not be found, even within the walls of Hogwarts. It would be fair to say that Severus Snape; the infamous, feared and chilling potions master of Hogwarts, did not do comfy. Nor did he do squishy, soft, pink, flower patterned, cosy or pretty but most definitely not soft and pleasant. And yet here he was sat in the softest, squishiest and possibly the pinkest armchair you might find, drinking from a flower patterned glass ware, by a what could only be described as cosy fire with a mantle decorated in pretty flowers and a table in lace doilies, speaking softly and making, of all things, polite and pleasant conversation with perhaps the only witch of the modern age that did not meet with a sneer and a sarcastic witticism. Oh how his dad would cringe in fact, Severus mused to himself, he would probably kill himself all over again if he could witness what his progeny was currently up to.

Across the room from him in matching circumstances, holding an identical if somewhat larger glass was the Stern, Hard and usually bustling Medi-Witch of the Hogwarts Infirmary. None other than Poppy Pomfrey, Chief Medi-Witch of the international medical congress and lead researcher into medical evolution, not to mention brilliantly clever, strangely attractive, addicted to firewhiskey and curiously interesting, or at least that's what Severus thought to himself before dismissing it all as pure folly and blaming it all on the drink that he had copiously been consuming.

If there was one thing that Severus Snape enjoyed in life it was drinking, and of the multitude of liquors, wines, spirits and brews that were on offer his chief taste was Firewhiskey. Devilishly sharp with a hint of tang it warmed and chilled the heart at the same time and left a burning aftertaste that was, in his opinion, to die for. In some ways he felt it resembled himself and that was comforting as the chief and most important use of alcohol in his life was to ease his pain which, let's face it, were many and complicated. In fact one of those pains was currently lying not four feet from him behind the closed door that led to the Hospital wing, it was a very curious pain and one that if long contemplated gave him one of those headaches that can only be solved by downing a few more glasses and cursing profusely at the subject in question. Which he would happily do were he not with company.

Downing his twelfth firewhiskey and disposing of the glass with a flick of his wrist, and a satisfying tinkling of broken glass as it hit the fireplace, he shook himself from his reverie and muttering something about stupid delusions and blasted potters slunk over to the cabinet to avail himself of some more whiskey only to find the cabinet empty and his head hurting from the effects of his drunken temper. Stomping back over to the armchair he slumped into it, his arms crossed and his face set in a permanent and petulant sulk, and began to contemplate the universal workings that had him sat in such circumstances making polite conversation with another human being.

It had all started off so simply. He had just popped in to nab some of the medi-witches famed firewhiskey brew, for medicinal reasons of course, otherwise known as the pain in the proverbial boy who lived, who for some reason always seemed to give him a headache of epic proportions. I mean it wasn't as if the boy wanted Snape there at all or even that Snape had wanted to be there, in fact the more Snape thought about it the more he considered that the damn spirit had been involved. Muttering under his breath about damn spirits and interfering erks he had wandered into the matrons office only to find the matron herself sat by the fire downing what must have been her fourth or fifth glass judging by the half empty bottle.

Snape was not surprised that she had drunk so many. With an ample supply of, cheap and easy, inebriation potions on hand and a penchant for spotless wards she was probably one of the few staff that Snape would have been shocked if they hadn't turned to drink. Teaching was a hard job in the muggle world let alone when the annoying brats had wands with the potential to make the 'nuclear' incidents of Chernobyl look like a candle and were constantly ending up in precarious situations that required a trained medi-witch and the patience of a saint. No, it was not the amount that shocked Severus it was the fact that she was sat bolt upright staring at him with a twinkle in her eye reminiscent of a certain headmaster and general interfering busybody.

Of course being polite he had started a conversation with her on the use of potions in medicinal treatment and the new properties of the enhanced wolfs bane and blood replenishing potions. Poppy had feigned interest for the first fifteen minutes but then had jumped at a chance to talk about the brat of a potter in the ward outside, just like any other retched person might. She had seemed particularly curious about the decision of a potions master that shall remain nameless. It had made him seethe inside that she would think he was getting mushy over a potter but still he smiled and bore her inane theories with a barely concealed grimace.

Eventually, after the fourth or fifth glass of firewhiskey, they had begun to discuss the mystery surrounding the potter boy and the level Albus had to do with the boys current predicament. After a long and intensive conversation, in which he had been forced to keep reminding Poppy that the boy was just a boy and not a pitiably cute bundle of cuddles, they had both come to the conclusion that Albus had made an error, an astonishing fact for Poppy to take in but not one that he himself had any problem agreeing with. It was after this particular discover that both of them had begun to discuss the infallibility of Albus Dumbledore, or more accurately his new found fallibility. Both of them had been deep in discussion when they were interrupted by a coughing at the door.

Severus Snape looked up with an angry expression and was just about to give the potter brat a well deserved telling off for his interruption and rudeness and general potter attitude when he realised to whom the silhouetted figure belonged to. Stifling his previously decided comment and swallowing inaudibly his face red from a guilty conscience rather than the twelve whiskeys he had consumed managed to stumble out a form of greeting in an abrupt, but he hoped, confident way.

_'Ahh, Headmaster, we were not expecting you'_

Snape managed to mumble while at the same time thinking to himself, _oh shit the old man had to interrupt at that point, _and considering whether the ground might be so helpful as to open up and swallow him whole. It would seem that he was not that only one to be thinking such a thing as Poppy attempted her own form of greeting which promptly mumbled into a question as to why Albus Dumbledore was visiting the infirmary and then quickly devolved into a mumbling about headaches and insomnia.

It would be interesting to note that both Snape and Poppy were feeling a little like the schoolchildren, that one of them loathed and the other considered a nuisance, at being caught out while indulging in a particularly good whiskey and a rather ominous conversation. It did not help that neither of them knew exactly how long Albus might have been standing in the doorway and thus how much he may have heard. Which incidentally led to the image that now faced Albus Dumbledore himself. Namely two of his staff red faced and partially pickled stammering out explanations as if they had just been caught doing the 'hokey pokey' in the broom closet like their young charges.

It was with this image that Albus Dumbledore had to contend as he attempted to pry the facts of the evening from the two professors without being too pressing and certainly without compromising his image of the benevolent and wise headmaster. As it would later turn out he need not have worried about his image but that comes later. For the moment Albus Dumbledore was considering how best to answer and whether he ought to bring up the situation in front of him. After a moments consideration he decided that it would be prudent to let the situation lie and so started out on what he hoped was a neutral tone.

_'Indeed Severus, I myself was not expecting to come down to the hospital wing tonight but a little birdie told me that a certain young man of our acquaintance had managed to find his way here and that a certain potions master was also in attendance. So naturally my curiosity was piqued by such happenings and I came to investigate the circumstances in which they might arise.'_

Dumbledore spoke softly and smoothly, a hint of his wisdom and eccentricity laced throughout his voice however none of this could disguise the obvious curiosity and intrigue in his voice that talked of a darker depth than one would expect but all of this flew over the head of the potions master and matron as they dutifully nodded and offered up their summarisations of the nights events.

Albus nodded in an interested and respectful fashion and made reasonable conversational attempts whenever the pairs memory seemed to falter or he noted a particularly interesting point but inside of himself he was fuming. His well laid plans were starting to unravel and that could not be allowed to happen, wizard kind depended on him and the power he was creating. He had simply spent too long bringing his plans to fruition and forging the weapon from the boy. It was a goal that he himself believed in and no one and nothing could disrupt that goal. For the second time in as many hours he was considering the use of the obliviatus curse in order to protect the boy and his destiny. He was not a callous man but for the greater good a lot would have to be sacrificed, like a master chess match a few small pieces could be lost in order for the final checkmate to occur. His conscience justified his mind and with a flick of his hand both pairs of eyes glazed over and then re-awoke, unaware of what had just occurred inside their minds and confusion written on their faces.

Dumbledore smiled softly and continued as if nothing had occurred, his voice soft and friendly but beneath the voice was the calculating mind of a genius chess player, a master manipulator and a nearly caught out tactician. Only one more person stood in his way and that person would soon be dealt with, he was safe, the world was safe and the boy would be restored to his full power and his rightful home. Motioning to Madam Pomfrey he politely inquired about the boy again and dutifully she reassured him that the boy would recover nicely and that it was a good job Albus had brought him in. Nodding with approval he motioned to Severus who confided that the potter brat would not be any more trouble since the new potion was working effectively. Smiling his benign smile he stood gracefully and headed for the door voicing his thanks and leaving the small office and its bemused occupants behind.

Stopping for a while by the bed of the now sleeping chosen one, he surveyed his work, his project, his child. One day this boy would destroy the greatest threat to wizard kind, the prophecy would be completed and the day of reckoning would arrive but now he would sleep and grow stronger. Muttering to himself strange words of power that flowed over the boy's body and mingled with his magic. Stepping back Dumbledore looked once more the slightest tinge of guilt encapsulating his face swiftly pushed aside by determination.

_Soon my boy, soon._

_A/N: Well it took a little longer than I would have hoped and I can't say that it is my best work because it isn't. However here you now have the fourth instalment of the Eternium of magic. There are some pieces that will surprise, some that will invoke emotion and others that just seem weird at this moment in time, but you have an authors promise that it will all make sense in the end, even if at the moment it doesn't make any sense in my mind :) I hope that you enjoy it and will attempt, real life permitting, to make a quicker and better fifth chapter. Maliscestratus Magiarcanae _

_**Pls Enjoy and any reviews will be gratefully acknowledged. I understand that my grammar may be awful so forgive a man for trying. **_


	5. Chp 5 Vacation In Hell

**A/N: Let me first apologise for the wait. As many of you probably know RL is crap and all things come in threes and thus I found myself facing my personal three. Lack of time, Lack of muse and Lack of space. It all sounds so simple to write what is in your heart and mind, to imagine a world filled with wonder but at some point everyone hits a blank. No matter what you do, bang your head against a wall that will no depart and thus I found myself. But no longer! I present for you with somewhat of a satisfied sadistic gleam. Oh yes I said it. The fifth and perhaps most interesting part of the Eternium Of Magic. **

**Yours Forever**

**Maliscestratus Magiarcanae **

**Disclaimer: **_**I do not own harry potter, that is entirely J.K. Rowlings domain and a credit to her for its invention. I merely am extending the known boundaries and allowing my imagination to run wild.**_

**Enjoy**

**TEOM Chp5: Vacation In Hell**

Harry potter could not remember a worse day in his life, well maybe the night in June but that would always haunt him, and yet here he was scrubbing a floor with a toothbrush and the latest chemical concoction from Petunia's Patented Cleaning Solutions. It had been his own fault really, or so he was told. After all what kind of person forgets to arrange the table mats in a soothing and aesthetically pleasing way, well he would certainly remember it from now on.

Harry winced as he crawled to the next row of tiles and started to scrub hard, it wasn't the pressure on his knees that hurt, nor the bruise upon his face it was the pain that resounded from every joint, bone and fleshy exterior that had taken punishment from the Dursley's. He felt sore all over but knew that if he should rub his wounds or stop for even a second the matriarchal Petunia would jump out from the kitchen and reprimand him, possibly leading to further beatings by the champion boxer, all-round wonder boy and great big lard arse Dudley Dursley.

Harry tried hard to forget his pain as he diligently and precisely scrubbed the cold flagstone floor of the Dursleys kitchen, making one mistake or one missed spot would earn him another beating and that was something that he could not bear at this moment in time. As he scrubbed he thought to himself about all the things he would do when he got back to Hogwarts not that he really had much chance of getting back, not now anyway. The first thing the Dursley's had done was to confiscate his wand the second thing was to lock him once more inside the second bedroom out of sight and out of mind. In fact they were so 'glad' to see him that they had confiscated all his possessions replaced his dying but sturdy wooden bed with a single dingy mattress and only allowed him out for chores and to collect his meagre food from the kitchen, as it was 'too hard' on petunia to keep walking up the flight of stairs to deposit it through the cat flap that adorned his door.

Harry winced as he moved forward on his knees scrubbing the cracks of the final square. Finished he stood his back aching, his muscles stiff with fatigue. He willed himself to stand upright despite the pain. It was not the work that hurt it was his side, painful and bruised it plagued him like a thorn in the side, every movement hurt every grumble of his stomach an agony thrice over, but from this agony there would be no salvation, Harry was sure he was going to die and he welcomed it. Stumbling towards the stairs he crawled up them as fast as he could go, the Dursley's would be back soon and he had no wish to meet them. Sure enough the moment he reached the topmost stair the gravel on the drive rustled, the sound of an engine cut out and the click of the key in the lock rang through the hallway, they were home. He hurried his pace anxious to reach the paltry safety of his room but it was not to be.

_'Boy, where are you Boy. Useless cretin...Get down here AT ONCE BOY!'_

The voice rang through the house, the voice which haunted his days and tormented his nights. Vernon Dursley was fuming in fact fuming was to put it mildly. He and his family had just enjoyed a dinner, a dinner that he had hoped would lead to a business deal, in fact that was the only reason he had gone to the dinner in the first place. The only reason he was wearing a suit and the only reason he had stuffed Dudley into a suit as well. All had been going well they had sat down for dinner, ordered starters and made small talk. The starters had arrived been eaten and then the main, a feast on the eyes and all top notch stuff as well. Mr Caranale had been most generous in fact Mr Caranale was very generous, generously wealthy, generously nice and generously sized as Petunia had put it. Unfortunately he was not generally stupid. After listening to the offer he had realised that Vernon Dursley was not a sound investment opportunity and had taken the view that business would not be conducted that night. He had wined and dined his guests and then at nine pm he had stood up, thanked his guests for coming and left, without so much as a I'll be in touch or an assurance of business. The whole deal was blown and Vernon was pretty certain why.

_'BOY...Boy get down here now...I want a word with you!'_

Harry was slowly making his way towards the stairs, his side hurting him and his pulse racing. He had faced Dementors and dark wizards and none of them had made his blood run as cold as Vernon Dursley could. A 'talk' with Vernon Dursley was hardly likely to be pleasant and no doubt whatever it was about was his fault. Harry walked down the stairs, ramrod straight and blank faced, determined not to show weakness or injury, he followed the sound of movement and voices into the living room and waited in the doorway for Uncle Vernon to notice him. Uncle Vernon did not like being sneaked up on and doubly so if it was Harry, the boy was not natural. Harry of course had learnt this the hard way and gave a polite cough from the doorway to alert Uncle Dursley to his presence.

Uncle Dursley was sat in his favourite chair, by a warm glowing fire, cradling a glass of whiskey and glowering at the television in the corner of the room. The same television that his son, his pride and joy was watching with glee as the latest idiotic actor found themselves impaled on the spike of the latest wrestler in Total Wrestling Cage Of Death. Pointless drivel but his son would be strong and this garbage bread strong boys. As Harry coughed he looked up towards the door, his eyes shining a gleeful sadistic gleam as he clapped eyes on his nephew. Oh this would be sweet he thought to himself.

_'Boy...do you see this glass'_ Harry nodded dumbly _'This glass contains whiskey, premium grade whiskey, a rather expensive brand' _Harry had to stop himself from laughing the whiskey was Morgan's spiced and not that expensive but Uncle Vernon would believe what he wished and cheeking him would only lead to pain so he bit his tongue. Vernon continued _'This I can afford because I make deals, to make a deal I talk to clients, I entice them into business. Tonight I met a client, a very promising, very lucrative client. He enjoyed my company and I his and we were going to settle on a contract this evening. However something went awry' _

Vernon looked up at the boy, his gangly appearance was shameful, his hair was over long and his face was detestable, in fact there was nothing that Vernon liked about this boy. Vernon continued to look at Harry his eyes full of hatred and loathing and blame. _'I have come to one conclusion about tonight'_ he said standing slowly up and turning to face Harry _' Some outside force swayed his opinion of my good self, now as neither myself, Petunia or Dudley did anything untoward that would mean only one other option'_ Vernon turned to face Harry full on his face a ghastly sneer his eyes livid with anger _' It was You, You and your freakish ways and I will not have them Boy. Not in my house, within my walls where I have raised you like a son...You will learn your place Boy, you will not practice your freakish magic in my house or on my person or anyone else.'_

Vernon Dursley took a step towards Harry who stepped back sharply but he was too slow and the crystalline glass that had once been in his uncles hand made contact with his face followed by the red balled fist of his uncle. Harry crashed to the floor and curled up into a ball as Uncle Vernon kicked into him again and again.

Darkness rushed up to meet him and the last thing Harry was aware of was a voice, not angry, not calm but filled with sorrow. _'Forgive me my ward'_

. x . x . x .

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry - The Dungeons**

Professor Severus Snape sat at his desk his mind wandering, his thoughts leading to his memories. Memories he had long held behind sealed doors, a light was guiding him, guiding him to a door a door that had not seen daylight for many a year and then it stopped. The light swelled and became menacing, anger flowed from within its aura, sorrow and pain rang throughout his mind and then the an ethereal voice spoke _'Forgive me my ward'_. Severus Snape awoke sharply his mind on fire, his wand in hand glancing round the room, on edge, aware. But there was nothing.

Looking back at his desk he saw the stack of assignments he had been marking, dull tedium but necessary. He had never wanted to be a teacher, his skill in potions was masterful and his need for sanctuary dire but he had never wanted to teach. Trapped inside this castle, this persona he was forever imprisoned. Once it had not been so but that was long years ago, before the powerful lust for magic and greed and a cause had led him down the road of the darkness. He was forever lost in its snare. Once he had thought himself free again, 13 years ago. But the master had returned and so had his freedom once more vanished and he once more was forced into a world of duplicity and deception. He had considered taking his own life but something held him back, The Boy. That irritating boy, child of James and lily, who should, should have been his, chosen one of the wizarding world. He had become his reason to exist, for the boy he would sacrifice, for the boy he would be there and for the boy he would live on. His mind jogged, a pain like no other welled up inside him and he remembered. The Boy was in danger.

Snape walked to his closet and waving his wand over it, opened the door. He knelt down and from the bottom of the closet pulled forth a box, a box covered in dust. He muttered a phrase dark and terrifying, safe and secure, the box opened. He removed the contents, a jerkin of purest black, trousers of black and a cloak, a cloak as black as the night, long as himself. He dressed himself and pocketed his wand, cloak billowing behind him he left his apartment.

From the other side of the room a presence emerged, a ball of glowing white light grew brighter and brighter and then disappeared in its place a silhouette of a man stood. His face cloaked in light. He sighed once and made a motion of his hand. In a voice as ancient as time itself he spoke _'Watch over him Severus, he has yet to fulfil his destiny and you yours'._

The figure faded the room went dark...the time for watching was at an end.

_A/N: So there you have it, Part 5. A real wind up and tantaliser, i could probably have written more but then again why should I. It will encourage you to read more I hope. The next instalment I hope shall be much sooner than the last, pending time and of course muse. Well for now I hope you have enjoyed the story and look forward to posting the 6th chapter of The Eternium Of Magic soon. Yours. Maliscestratus Magiarcanae _

_**Pls Enjoy and any reviews will be gratefully acknowledged. I understand that my grammar may be awful so forgive a man for trying. **_


	6. Chp 6 Interminable Situation

**A/N: First of let me apologise, and not for the first time, I find myself doing this more often lately for later posts and lack of input. Real life has a way of sneaking up on you and I can fully appreciate the infuriation that writers feel when they are held from their task by the constraints of the world. I have yet to complete to my satisfaction even the first section of this particular epic and that leaves me once more apologising. I sympathise then with the quote from one member in a PM to myself stating, I wish you would write more soon, I just can't wait. There is nothing more infuriating than having to wait for something particularly with written fiction where a wait often entails having to reread the previous divulgence to get back into the flow of the narrative. Once more I apologise and can only hope that you have sufficient interest in the work that I am writing or should I say expanding on to continue your patronage of this fan-fiction. There are of course the happier moments with the expressions of faith, interest and sometimes the little quirks of a story that both runs away with its writer as well as its audience in which I hope I am truthful in hoping that mine does. All that is left is for me to once again and hopefully for the last time, at least for a while, apologise for the delay and to present you with the now complete Chapter 6 of The Eternium of Magic. **

Maliscestratus Magiarcanae

**P.S. If anyone would be interested in Beta Reading my work, I would be eternally grateful. **

**Disclaimer: **_**I do not own harry potter, that is entirely J.K. Rowlings domain and a credit to her for its invention. I merely am extending the known boundaries and allowing my imagination to run wild.**_

**Enjoy**

**The Eternium of Magic**

**Chapter Six: Interminable Situation**

A warm glow emanated from eh windows at number four privet drive drawing the casual eyed observer to the idea that peace and a delightful warmth resided within but the eyes of the boy who looked out from the barred and locked window of the second floor bedroom attested otherwise. Behind the supposedly impenetrable blood wards and the magic of the Fidelius charm Harry potter stood staring out towards the outside world a prisoner of his own desires and fame. Confined and bound as well as any shackles invented, unable to leave lest the world should descend and anarchy ensue. He was a captive, bound into this world of torture and abuse where his love of those close to him and his destiny held him within their inescapable fate. He had briefly considered ending it all, silencing himself and sticking two fingers to the prophecy and fate but alas even that final avenue was denied to him. He was the chosen one, he who would defeat Voldemort, he could not die, would not die.

Looking down at his body he saw the gangly appearance of ill kept youth, his eyes had lost their spark, his body was covered with multiple bruises in many shades. Even his hair was more dishevelled than previous. Such was the life of Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived. Harry continued to stare out of the upstairs window, wishing for that tantalising moment that he could be elsewhere with those that he cared about, even Grimmauld place would be okay. Harry shuddered, a cold chill permeating him from the inside out, he had replayed that night over and over. All the things that had happened, replayed in his nightmares as if fate were taunting him. No matter what he blamed himself, it was his fault that Ron was injured, that Hermione had nearly died and ultimately that his only link to home, the only father figure he had known had paid the ultimate price for him. Sirius had died, struck by a spell in response to his naive action, protecting him, dying for him. Oh why couldn't he have died instead. Perhaps the Dursleys would succeed, perhaps he deserved the life he was living now. Harry's mind wandered through subjects bleak and depressing still standing silent as a statue staring into the beyond.

_'Boy, come down here boy!'_

Vernon Dursleys voice yelled from downstairs. Harry shook himself from his bleak reverie and sighed. It was not going to be a good day.

**Knockturn Alley**

The bell rang, the door opened and the man behind the counter looked up a sneer of displeasure upon his face, that was until the entity stepped inside. The man behind the counters eyes twinkled his face split into a snivelling grin and his palms twitched at the thought of money to be made.

There were not many people that loved gold more than him, or that could equal a goblin in their desire to acquire it but Maurice Malaverice was a opportunist and cunning investor. It was said that he could smell a deal a mile off, that through his many ventures and investments he controlled the wizarding world and that reneging on a bargain with him was akin to signing your own death warrant. None of this of course had any basis in fact at least none that could be proven but never the less it hit fairly close to the mark. There were not many people that frightened Mr Malaverice and of those none held such a place in his heart or scared him as the entity that currently stood inside his small premises. He stood and bowed and with heart cradled in his mouth and a tone of recognised devotion he spoke.

_'And what can my humble self do for your eternal lordship.'_

**15 Harold Street, Kensington**

Hermione Granger was pacing. At this moment in time she had gone seven times around her room, although to most this would seem a strange practice to those that new her well enough this little ritual was a regular occurrence usually following a significantly difficult quandary and preceding a successful or interesting conclusion. In short she was thinking, although some might question if she ever stopped, it was one of those thoughts that had her up half the night and had filled her day since the moment she work this morning to the current hour, which as far as she was aware was precisely 10 minutes before lunch. Hermione liked to be precise it was one of the many things that she was certain on, that precision and ultimate precise knowledge would allow for simplistic and smooth control of one's life. It would surprise no one then to learn that this particularly troubling thought was infuriating even her well practiced patients.

Hermione sighed. _When will life be normal___she thought to herself as for the eighth time that day she paced from the bookshelf on one side of her room to the door on the other. She had been thinking about Harry, she knew how he must be feeling and knew what he must be going through, she had sent many letters to him over the past three days but none of them had yet to arrive and some had already returned unanswered. She had tried everything she could to contact him and using her last available option had contacted Dumbledore via letter. It was in response to Dumbledore's reply that she now found herself in this quandary. She missed Harry dearly and wanted so much to be with him to sooth him and help him through but this was for the moment out of her reach. She sighed once more and flopped onto the bed dropping the piece of parchment she had been holding. The only contact she had from the boy who lived.

_Dear Hermione_

_Am fine and doing some well needed revision._

_Hope to see you soon_

_Harry _

Of course none of the above was particularly true but the note was in his writing and was delivered personally by Fawkes through Dumbledore so it must have been true but still she could not get her head around it. Even more confusing was the note that Dumbledore had sent her and Ron to go with it.

_Dear Miss Granger and Mr Ronald Weasley_

_Thank you for the letters you have been sending young Mr Potter. Unfortunately Harry has informed myself that he does not want any correspondence for the time being as he is currently thinking things through. I admit that I am as shocked as you must be to hear such a thing but never the less I feel that it is a mature and rational response to what must have been a emotionally turbulent year for him. I must apologise then for being unable to send on your correspondence to him. Perhaps when he comes to see you both at the Burrow on the 18th July he will be inclined to explain more however for the moment I must urge you not to contact him as you may interfere with his emotional meditation. _

_Yours_

_Albus Dumbledore_

_Order of Merlin 1st Class, Grand Sorcerer, Supreme Mugwump of The International Confederation of Wizards, Chief Warlock of The Wizengamot, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. D. Wiz, X.J (Sorc), S. Mag. Q Hnrs._

How could Harry not want any communication with her and Ron. Alright maybe Ron, she hadn't been sure of him since the incident with the Arthur and the ministry but surely he wouldn't just ignore her. She felt the pain of his rejection and worry for him welling up inside her. With a sigh she replaced the letters in her draw and wandered off down stairs for lunch.

**Back at Number 4 Privet Drive**

Harry dragged himself onto his mattress his body aching all over a fresh set of bruises fighting their way through his already bruised skin. He cringed as he moved, every part of him ached, he had been on the receiving end of another Dursley rant and had ended up being the focal point. He looked at his empty desk realising that once again he had no reply from Hermione or Ron. They must hate him for what he put them through. Harry stared up to the sagging ceiling of his little room as he thought to himself, _When will life be normal. _

_A/N: _Well thank you for reading once again and I hope I can complete the next chapter soon. Please review as it is the only way I can improve. Also I am looking for a Beta Reader for this fanfic so please PM me if interested.

_**Pls Enjoy and any reviews will be gratefully acknowledged. I understand that my grammar may be awful so forgive a man for trying. **_


	7. Authors Note

To all those that have favourited, to all those that have selected me as a author and to all those that have reviewed. It has been a long time since I last published on this story and this has been due to me being increasingly under the pressure of real life and also due to me feeling a little out of touch with the story. What started as an experiment became more but I must admit being not entirely happy with it. Thus I resolved to correct the inadequacies of the story.

In view of this I have restarted the story under the new title of** Harry Potter and The Eternium Chronicles. **This newer version will endeavour to correct some of the mistakes, punctuation and grammatical errors as well as character realisations and implausibility that crept up in the version you have, hopefully, read. The new version will have similar plot, cliff hangers, twists, turns, emotional moments and hopefully some surprises too.

I hope that you will continue to stick with me as we traverse this realm of fan fiction and wish you all the joy of reading that I feel when writing for you.

Yours

_MALISCESTRATUS MAGIARCANAE_


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